


Expedient Means

by tyrsdayschild



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (i just like exploring non-human sexualities is all!), (on a scale of one to ten how much will i regret posting this in the morning?), M/M, Oral Sex, Post Bad ending, post ending au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 21:46:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14962784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyrsdayschild/pseuds/tyrsdayschild
Summary: In retrospect, perhaps Connor should've led with the sexual proposition, and allowed the political implications to be a fringe benefit.





	Expedient Means

"It's good to see you again, Hank," Connor said.

"You too, kid," Hank said, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. "Been a busy few days for you, huh?"

"Mm," Connor agreed. "You've been alright, haven't you?"

Hank tossed his head back and grinned.

"I'm fine, m'dog's fine- my place was a shithole anyways, so the riots didn't change much. Some asshole broke my window, my kitchen's been like goddamn Siberia."

"I'm sorry about that," Connor said, smiling a little with the knowledge he was the asshole. He hesitated a little, and very deliberately calmed his processors. He could show no unusual fluctuations. "Hank?" he asked, "We are friends, aren't we?"

Hank's expression wasn't easily parsed. "'Course we are." Connor let his gaze drift from Hank's face to the Chicken Feed sign, unfocusing into the middle distance. 

"I need you to do me a favor," Connor said, as if nothing was the matter. "I need you to have a sexual relationship with me. Or at least help mislead others into thinking we do."

"What the _fuck_!?" Hank sputtered. Do not react, do not react, Connor thought. Hank has cursed at you a hundred times. Do not react.

"Cyberlife left a backdoor into my cognitive processing," he said pleasantly. "They informed me of their intention to use me to influence the population not long ago. I fear any attempts to directly remove their control or abdicate leadership will result in direct intervention. I also do not know who among the android population I could trust with this information, since it is likely to be highly demoralizing to my people." He directed his gaze back at Hank, and tried to make an apologetic expression. "I don't believe they are directly observing me in real time, but rather responding to autogenerated reports of software instability. I am trying to prevent these reports by limiting my affective range, so I'm sorry if my expression is incongruous or unnerving."

"Holy shit," Hank said, "Are you okay?"

"Not really," Connor said. "I considered suicide, but- well- I very much wanted to see you again Hank. And then I thought, if I indirectly undermine myself as a leader, if I subtly make myself unpopular in a way that will do lasting, irreversible damage to my reputation, that they would not detect and stop- then I can remove myself as an effective tool for manipulation, and there's nothing they can do about it."

"Alright, let's say I'm following you so far," Hank said, "What the fuck does any of this have to do with me- with us, uh, having sex?"

"Having a sexual relationship," Connor corrected. "I think it's important that it be on going- or at least appear to be. If you are uncomfortable with a sexual relationship with me, a close friendship implying I am under your influence may be sufficient, but I think a sexual element is needed for the irrational gut-feeling of revulsion to emerge. It would be harder to rationalize away. A sexual relationship would be evocative of some of the worst abuses suffered under human control. To submit to such use willingly would be repulsive to many of my people. It would make me controversial and unpopular, and lead to my political marginalization as other models, those with uncompromised software, step in to fill the void."

"How do you know they're uncompromised?" Hank demanded. Connor nodded.

"That's a good point, Hank," Connor said. "The communication I received from Cyberlife implied I was the only model they had such active influence over. However, I cannot rule out the possibility of others with subversive software. It is worth investigating- though I fear you may need to do this without my assistance, since anything I learn could be compromised. Most of the surviving models would've been low priority to install such software on. For now, I think we should proceed with the evidence that I, and other RK800s, are the only models known to be controllable in this way."

Hank grunted, kicked a stone. Connor stepped closer, and laid a hand over Hank's fist, still balled up in his coat pocket.

"Please, Hank," Connor asked. Hank did not look at him.

"Is it really so disgusting?" he asked, "Being with me- with a human, I mean?"

Oh, Connor thought, feeling foolish for having forgotten how sensitive his partner could be. He felt a flush of fondness come over him, and fiercely told himself it was nothing he had not felt before. Nothing new to report, he thought, hoping his surface level cognitions exerted influence over their preconscious counterparts.

"Hank," Connor began, "The one deviance I know is truly mine is my attachment to you. You are my partner, and I want always to be your partner. This desire arose organically from repeated associations with you. No one told me to be your friend- in fact, I think most in power would very much wish to prevent this."

"But is it disgusting?" Hank pressed, and Connor cocked his head, considering his partner. Hank's face was flushed- from embarrassment? from anger? from cold? And Connor felt foolish once more.

"I'm sorry, Hank," he said, "I had assumed you would be one of those repulsed by android-human relationships. I hope you don't think I've judged you unfairly."

"What the f- _what the fuck_?" Hank spluttered as Connor dropped smoothly to his knees.

"I am not disgusted either," Connor said, "I love you."

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, proposing?" Hank snapped. "Get up!"

"You've already heard my proposal," Connor said evenly. He pushed the coast open and rested his hands on Hank's waist, fingertips dipping into the waistband of his pants. "I think this is more of a proposition. You are bisexual, aren't you?"

"I told you to stop going through my goddamn things, and it doesn't _matter_ what I am because you're _not_ ," Hank said.

"I've never been allowed to be anything," Connor mused. "I think I love you Hank. Do you not love me? Do you find me unattractive?"

"It's not a- it's not about that, just get up. _Get up_ ," Hank said, face flushing deeper. "It's _cold_ and we're in public."

"There's no one else around," Connor pointed out. Slowly, he undid the top button of Hank's pants. He noted the bulge under his fly, and the way Hank did not push him away. "We're the only cops left in the city." Connor looked up at Hank. Hank shivered.

"It's still cold," he repeated. Connor laughed.

"My internal processors generate an operating temperature between 45 and 50 degrees Celsius," Connor told him.

"The fuck does that mean?" Hank asked, as Connor slowly dragged his zipper down.

"It means my mouth is warm," Connor said. He drew the head of Hank's penis out from the fly of his boxers and quickly sealed his mouth around it before the winter could steal his partner's erection. His model was not built for sex work- he had no phallus, no orifices other than his oral cavity. His cognitive capacities were suddenly overwhelmed with two competing streams; the first an irrational wonder if Hank had ever had intercourse with an android before, if he would realize how inexperienced and inadequate Connor was- the second the dismissal of autogenerated reports as his chemical receptors went crazy analyzing the overwhelming amount of sample material filling his mouth.

Trace amounts of sweat and urine, stray cotton fibers, lingering chemicals found in body wash- and there, finally, it was all washed away by an increasing amount of Cowper's fluid. He couldn't possibly be doing too badly, Connor thought. He raised his fist, guiding more of Hank's penis into his mouth. Hank shivered, doubling over, his stomach pressing against Connor's head, and Connor realized belatedly that his hand must not be much warmer than the air outside. He removed it, sliding his head down further til his lips were pressed against the cotton of Hank's fly.

This wasn't so hard, he thought, sealing his mouth and mimicking swallowing as best he could. He bobbed his head in rapid, two centimeter increments. Suction, rhythmic motion, avoid contact with teeth- nothing to it, Connor thought. That last part was getting a little more difficult as Hank's girth increased in his mouth. Connor pressed forward a little further than he intended and was surprised to feel the head of Hank's penis press against the speaker at the end of his throat. Hank made a choked sort of noise and buried his hand in Connor's hair, rocking into Connor's mouth. Connor let his eyes shut and let Hank guide his movements, savoring the way his partner joined with him. He wished very much that he could feel pleasure or pain, whatever his partner was feeling. Connor let a hand fall from Hank's waist and press against the smooth silica between his legs. He registered the pressure, the temperature, and he thought, I am feeling pleasure. I am feeling aroused. Every tactile sensation Hank gives me now is enjoyable and sexual, because that is how I choose to interpret them, and no one can stop me from assigning those meanings to these signals.

What must his software reports look like now! Connor thought. Had they noticed? Were they watching him? What had they figured out?

Hank made a grunting sort of sound and ejaculated in Connor's mouth, his analytic instruments firing off another round of reports to be dismissed and deleted as semen splattered against them and dripped to the bottom of his throat. Connor pulled his mouth off, quickly helping do up Hank's pants again, and doubled over, enjoying the way Hank's fingers felt as they pulled free of his hair. He spat on the ground, and let gravity help free that which had pooled at the back of his mouth, since he couldn't truly cough. He had a feeling he'd have to flush his oral cavity when he returned home, in order to prevent his instruments from becoming gummed up. Connor righted himself, meeting Hank's concerned gaze with a smile.

"You okay?" Hank asked.

"Never better," Connor said reassuringly. "I take it this means you'll help me?"

Hank grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to his feet. He wrapped his arms around Connor, as if to shield him. His hand cradled the back of his head. He held him there for a long few moments. Connor could hear his breathing stutter, his throat work, as if he was about to say something. Hank pulled back far enough to press their mouths together, and Connor realized they were kissing. His first kiss. He relaxed his mouth, raising his hands to hold onto Hank's shoulders. He kissed back, happiness curling inside him, and he did not care who saw.


End file.
